


An abomination

by destielsuperwholockbandhoorah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Demon!Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielsuperwholockbandhoorah/pseuds/destielsuperwholockbandhoorah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a demon, but something pulls him back to Castiel, something past the darkness burning in him that makes him unable to give into what he has become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An abomination

The blackness burned, flameless, feeling like it should be white hot, but being invisible to anyone who didn't know better. The only evidence was the two dark holes that were his eyes. He supposed that they were still eyes. But they didn't feel that way. Eyes could see, eyes took in light and reflected it back and absorbed the world. These, they only consumed, taking every piece of light that came to them, and destroying it, swallowing it up in their abysses.

He burned all the way through, that hot, painful kind of burn that one might fear because you don't really want it to stop. The burn of the smoke in him, it was a burden, but a new one, and he was freed from all the old burdens he had used to have. That was the blessing in the curse, he supposed, as he thought about it, staring down at his feet. The room was pitch black, but his eyes no longer saw the way they should anyways, and so every bit of the room around him was visible to him.

There were his worn shoes, resting on the old, faded carpet. There were the legs of the chair he was sitting on, and there was the lightly drifting curtain a few feet to his left. And there was the legs of the bed a little to his right, the blankets drooping down from the top and brushing the floor, from where they were slipping off the bed. They had been kicked, he presumed. After all, Cas had become a restless sleeper.

Because that last part of the room that he hadn’t looked at yet, the most important part really, was Cas, his form half curled up on the bed, blankets wrapped around his legs but exposing his torso, which was clad in an old sweatshirt that would have been more familiar if Dean had cared. He was facing away, and Dean could see, could sense, the slow rise and fall of his chest and back.

Why was he here?

He shouldn't be here. He no longer belonged here. He was supposed to be free, he was supposed to be an abomination, and he was supposed to be proud of that. That's what demons were, wasn't it? Arrogant, cocky sons-of-bitches who were repulsed by their former humanity, who wanted to kill everyone who had been a part of it.

But Dean didn't really feel it. He could sense that the sentiment was there, he had the capability to let go of who he had been, to drop all of his responsibilities that he used to carry. That he had carried for so long. He wanted to, so badly. He could feel the bloodlust in him, running through his veins, burning almost painfully in his forearm where the mark still resided. He wanted to kill, to sink his blade into flesh, to rip and tear and wreak havoc and to feel the warm blood of others gushing through his fingers.

But there was something holding him back. It was something infuriating, and unexplainable. He felt it right then though. Ironically, it was in the dark that he felt the closest to what he used to be, and where he felt most keenly how far away he was from his humanity. And where he almost regretted it. Almost.

Cas sighed and Dean clenched his teeth. He should have killed Cas already, that's what a proper demon would have done. But he wasn't a proper demon, was he? He was broken and twisted into something unidentifiable and wrong and unnatural, and yet he was still not truly a demon. And he was no longer a human either. He didn't know what it was, but he did know that the longer Cas breathe beside him, the more the blackness inside of him burned. As the seconds ticked by, he became angrier and angrier at who he was, what he was.

He had to leave, he couldn't take it anymore. The burn in his eyes was turning into one that was all too familiar, one that was borne by tears, rather than by evil. He couldn't cry, he couldn't let himself cry.

But then he knocked over the chair in his haste to leave, and he froze, watching as Cas bolted upright, his hand reaching automatically under his pillow, no doubt grasping at the knife that was hidden there. Dean watched as Cas's unseeing eyes scanned the room, and he wondered if Cas could see him. Cas also was turning into something less that he was before, but instead of becoming more creature, he was becoming more human. Fate was cruel.

But somehow, Cas's eyes locked on Dean's even in the pitch blackness. He must have had enough angel left in him to see Dean.

"Dean," Cas breathed, so softly that no one might have heard it, except of course Dean did. Cas's eyes widened infinitesimally, and he continued to stare at Dean.

“Hey, Cas," Dean said quietly. And he just couldn't muster up his snark and anger. It had all seemed to drain out of him, leaving him only with the smoke swirling inside of him, which was terrifying on its own, making it feel like he was empty and dangerous.

Cas reached over and turned on the light. It made little difference for Dean, but he quickly blinked away his black eye, bringing back the green facade.

"Why are you here?" Sonofabitch got straight to the point didn't he? But Dean didn't have an answer, he didn't know it himself. So he said nothing.

Cas had a knowing look on his face though, which made Dean take a step back as he watched Cas swing his legs around and come to stand just off the side of the bed, only a few feet from Dean. He could inexplicably feel the tears coming again, and gritted his teeth against them in a silent growl. Cas took a step forward, a rather big one, so that he stood rather close in front of Dean.

"I'm glad you're here," Cas said quietly, lifting a hand as if to touch Dean. But Dean pulled back, stumbling a little in the effort to get away.

"Don't touch me, he said quickly, pulling his hands close to him and backing his knees into the knocked over chair from before. He stumbled again, but couldn't look away from Cas. He knew he should, he could feel the wrongness that he knew would coming out of his eyes, He could feel the tears building in them, and he couldn't let Cas see. He couldn't reveal to Cas all that he had become.

"Dean?"

"I'll soil you." He wasn't sure what he meant by that, but it was true all the same. Dean was a destroyer, one who dirtied, and light like Castiel didn't belong next to him, it burned to have it so close.

"What do you-"

"I'm a demon Cas!" Dean let his eyes revert to what they really were, and had to keep himself from shouting. "I am dirty and I am black and I am murderous and you shouldn't touch me."

Cas wouldn't stop coming forward, and Dean had run out of room to back up. He had made it around the chair, and had his back pressed into the wall of Cas's room. He trembled as Cas once again stepped up close, so that his breath tickled Dean's face, and Dean had to greatly resist the urge to lean forward and to...

Cas lifted one hand to brush down the length of Dean's jaw. "Don't say that Dean, you aren't dirty, no matter what you think is inside of you."

Dean stared, black eyes opened wide to meet Castiel's own eyes, and came to a snap decision. He knew all along what he was doing here, and he had been denying it to himself because he had been afraid. But He couldn't bear Cas looking at him like that, with tenderness and caring and love in his eyes. He had to stop it, he had to tell Cas everything, he had to make Cas see him for what he was and he had to make Cas hate him as much as he hated himself, because there was no other way that Dean thought he would be able to leave.

As if on cue, Cas asked once more, his hand still on Dean's face, having slid down to rest more on the side of his neck, and Dean trembled under the touch. "Why are you here Dean?"

"Because I love you." Dean swallowed. Cas had frozen and he pushed on. "Because I love you and because I don't deserve you, and I shouldn't be here. Because I have loved you for years and I never told you because I was too afraid, and now I’m not even me, and so maybe it doesn’t even matter anymore. Because I am worthless, an abomination who doesn’t deserve anything." He felt the anger building in him, and struggled to shove it down. Whatever he was, he never wanted to hurt Cas.

“No,” Cas said softly, his hands pressing a little harder, but not strangling like Dean thought they should, but comforting instead. “You are not worthless, you are Dean Winchester, and you are everything.”

“No, Cas, I’m-” Dean was cut off by the swiftest kiss to his lips, which left him speechless for several seconds. He could feel Cas’s lips on him still, like that had burned away a little of the darkness on his lips. He wished he could pull Cas closer, to kiss him with everything he had left in him, but he knew he couldn’t. And he was afraid of what it would do to them if he did.

“Dean,” Cas said solemnly, “Don’t say such things about yourself. I think you are the most wonderful, beautiful human being in the world. And I love you.”

Dean felt the blackness burning inside of him, roiling and churning though him, making him feel almost sick. Everything that he had become balked at Cas’s words, at Cas’s touch, at what Dean felt for him. He felt like he was torn in two, one part who he was and one part who Cas believed him to be. “You shouldn’t,” Dean choked out, and hating the way his voice revealed the tears coming down his face. “I don’t deserve to be loved. I don’t deserve anything but for you to smite me here and now.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Cas’s hands rubbed slowly up and down Dean’s upper arms. “And not just because of the mark of Cain. I could never hurt you Dean.”

Dean knew Cas could feel him shaking, and couldn’t help the quiet, dry sob that tore itself through his chest. Cas still had his hands on Dean, and maneuvered him so that he was sitting in an armchair that Cas had in the corner. Cas lowered himself onto his knees in front of Dean, so that they were almost at the same height, Cas just a little lower so that he could look up into Dean’s eyes, which had fallen back into being the black empty pits that they really were, glistening with tears.

Cas reached up and wiped away the tears from Dean’s face, but almost instantly there were more in their place, as Dean was helpless against them. He felt everything coming out of him at once, and it was terrifying, but Dean couldn’t hold onto it anymore, none of it.

Dean hunched forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and bending his back so that he looked small. His head almost rested on Castiel’s bowed one, and so Cas lifted his head, and began to press little kisses into Dean’s tear streaked skin, kissing away every tear falling from his eyes.

“Cas,” Dean tried, but his voice was broken and he gave up, trembling under each kiss on his cheeks and his eyelids, unable to stop either Cas or the tears. Cas’s hands were on Dean’s cheeks, thumbs brushing at his cheekbones. Dean lifted his shaking hands, covering Cas’s, fighting the urge to tear them away and to run, to disappear. He just couldn’t do anything though, except sit there, seemingly held back by something as human as love. It was almost ironic.

Dean felt like he was burning up, the darkness in him hating everything, but whatever part of him that was not darkness, the part that was still human, that part didn’t want Cas to stop. That was the part he wanted to listen to. That was the part he wanted to be _him_.

Dean’s hands still shook as they held onto Cas’s, as Cas continued to pepper his face with feather light kisses, each spot he touched burning ever so slightly.

“You are beautiful,” Cas breathed against his skin. “Your soul is beautiful, you are bright and simply gorgeous.”

Dean’s hands dropped to his knees. “Stop saying that, stop lying. I’m not beautiful, I’m murderous and dark and-”

But once again he was quieted by a kiss, a soft and insistent kiss from Cas, who pushed up into him, like he was trying to erase all the bad words and thoughts from Dean. And Dean let Cas kiss him, he kissed back, leaning back in the chair and fisting his hands in Cas’s shirt, pulling Cas with him.

“I love you,” Cas whispered onto Dean’s lips. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” He kissed slowly, like he might never get to again, but was planning to never stop. He kissed Dean like Dean was his whole world, like he was air, and Dean could barely take it. He wanted it so bad, he wanted Cas to love him, but he couldn’t help but believe that he shouldn’t, that being with Cas would ruin them both. But as Cas kissed him, lips moving lovingly across Dean’s, his hands sliding up to grasp at Dean’s hair and the back of his neck.

Cas kept whispering “I love you”s into Dean’s skin, in between breaths and kisses, holding Dean up as he became more and more limp and tired. But he still held in tightly to Cas, kissing him for all he was worth, his eyes squeezed shut tightly so that Cas couldn’t see the blackness.

Cas was still wiping away the tears that would not stop falling, and was holding onto Dean, letting Dean lean down into him where Cas still kneeled on the floor, in between Dean knees.

Dean broke off the kiss, letting his head fall down onto Cas’s shoulder. Cas wound his arms around Dean’s back and held him as tightly as he could in that awkward position. Dean never stopped shaking, and Cas could feel the wetness soaking into his sweatshirt.

After a few minutes, the room was quiet, though Dean still trembled on Cas’s shoulder, and Cas’s knees were beginning to burn, even with the slight pain relief he could have with his grace. So he began to stand up, lifting Dean off of him as he did so.

“Cas, what are-” Dean looked at him worriedly.

Cas’s hands had slid to Dean’s wrists as he stood, and he gave them a light tug. “Come here,” was Cas’s answer. And Dean followed him, letting Cas tug him over to the bed.

They both sat on the bed, side by side, leaning on Cas’s pillows. Dean bowed his head, closing his eyes and just letting the burn of Castiel’s touch wash through him.

“Dean, let me see your eyes.” Cas’s voice was soft but firm.

Dean lifted his face, flicking his eyes back to their old green, and staring into Cas’s as best he could in the darkness.

“No,” Cas shook his head. “Let me see _your_ eyes.”

With a shuddering breath, Dean let his eyes go black once more, and though he feared what he was with those eyes, he trusted Cas. Which was a strange feeling.

“You, Dean, are one of the most beautiful souls there is,” Cas told him with such a firm conviction that a new wave of tears washed through Dean, “and I love you.”

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean said, for the first time.

Cas smiled, honest and tired, and shifted in the bed so that he was laying down. He then gestured that Dean do the same, and Dean did, laying on his side and closing his eyes, burying his face in Cas’s chest and getting as close as he could.

Cas wrapped himself tightly around Dean, his strong arms winding around Dean’s back and pulling him in even farther. It was like that, wrapped in Cas’s arms, he let himself break down the rest of the way, and his sobs were muffled by Cas’s chest. Neither of them slept that night, but simply held onto each other, too scared of what would happen if they let go.


End file.
